


Silky Robes and Stripper Heels

by runrarebit



Series: Misfits Moments [2]
Category: Misfits (TV 2009)
Genre: AU, Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Timeline, Anal Gaping, Being Walked In On, Bottom!Nathan, Crossdressing, Embarrassment, I mean it is Simon, Just embarrassment all the way down, M/M, a bit gross, except it's your mum, not actually really smut but kind of smutty, some mention of watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 08:27:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18406865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runrarebit/pseuds/runrarebit
Summary: Nathan's mum- and the guy who lives with her- walk in on Simon shagging Nathan (wearing aforesaid silky robe and stripper heels) up against the wall of the Community Centre. Basically. I don't know. I've got a cold. Don't look at me.





	Silky Robes and Stripper Heels

**Author's Note:**

> So apparently Misfits premiered ten years ago. Wow am I old. Sigh. I blame the Umbrella Academy for this. The combination of Robert Sheehan and Gerard Way taking me back to my early twenties and listening to MCR and watching Misfits. 
> 
> Anyway, there is no backstory or context to this. I am too ill to construct backstory or context for an idea I vaguely remember having almost a decade ago and only got around to writing today. Just imagine it's an alternate timeline or something. Maybe Nathan's still got the tattoo? I have no idea. 
> 
> I would just like to thank anyone who reads this for doing so, and to say that I hope you like it, and to wish you all a lovely day.

There are probably worse ways your mother can catch you having sex. Like, if there’s a corpse or a chihuahua or adult nappies involved, yeah? Or if Simon had been pissing on him again. Or even if she’d walked in about five minutes later when Simon’d probably be on his knees, phone in hand, camera lens alternative between his fucked out face and his fucked out hole— telling him to ‘push it out so I can see it.’ Simon’s cum that is. From his arse.

Still—

From the ‘Oh Jesus, Nathan!’ he hears her squawk, upright against the wall in a pair of stripper heels and a silky robe this chick with a pole dancing lesson later on had left behind in the Community Centre, his legs around his boyfriend’s waist, Simon plowing away with his coke-can of a cock, him making high pitched and decidedly _feminine_ pleas of ‘Creampie me Barry. Come on, give me your spunk,’ might not be the best introduction one’s mother can get to one’s boyfriend. 

Simon spasms in terror in his arms. Mind you he thinks if he hadn’t done such a through job of cleaning himself out in preparation for this he might have shat himself, not a great thought with that bit of his anatomy already occupied by his boyfriend’s delightful penis. Simon pulls out. He slides slightly pathetically down the wall until he can get his legs back underneath himself. He feels strong hands close around his waist to steady him as his boyfriend starts to step back.

A thought occurs to him. This thought sends him launching himself at Simon’s cock, doing his best to shield it from view. ‘You can’t look!’ he wails at his mother, while he and Simon dance around in a flailing kind of waltz, the other man making confused kind of bleating noises, ‘ _It’s not for you!_ ’

He’s seen Jezza. He knows what she likes. And while Simon is probably only two thirds Jeremy’s length he has to be at least as thick. Simon’s fat stubby cock is all his, he’s not having his mother seeing it and wanting to take a ride. 

He feels a warm, strong hand catch at his robe and slap down between the cheeks of his arse, silky fabric and body warmth suddenly pressed against his twitchy, gaping hole. It makes him shudder and let out a whine, hips dancing back for a moment. A couple of breaths later he realises he’s now got Simon pressed against the wall, his own back to his mother and her— man who lives with her— the robe until a moment ago still hiked up around his waist. He must have been giving them an eyeful. The mess Simon makes of him well and truly on display. The combined thought of Simon and his arsehole makes the thing twitch again. Even the stress of the situation hasn’t made it tighten up properly yet. It always takes a while afterwards for it to do so—

When he first saw Simon’s cock fully hard he’d thought it was quite small. At the time, not knowing what he himself likes, this had been a relief. A relief that had lasted only until he’d gotten up close and personal with it and realised that it only _looks_ small. It’s a combination of the length— very, very average— in fact a teensy bit shorter than his own— with the girth— very, very above average. It’s like an optical illusion— average length plus vastly above average girth equals the impression of itty, bitty, short little stumpy cock instead of the ‘so thick he can’t encircle it in his fingers’ monster that it in fact is.

The first few times had been a struggle to take it. It had felt like he was giving birth in reverse, which had put him in a very weird headspace and was not, alarmingly, un-erotic. There’d been a lot of heavy breathing of the Lamaze variety— which had almost made Simon run away from the situation in panicked embarrassment. He’s glad the other had stuck around though— because by the time they’d even tried slotting the other man’s cockhead in the first time he’d had half a bottle of lube and almost a whole fist worth’s of fingers up there and was feeling very wet, very loose, and very vulnerable— not that he’d ever admit it. Being buggered had made that moment of vulnerability worth it. 

He loves it. That’s terrible isn’t it? He’s not supposed to love having a cock in him. He’d always thought of himself as— well, maybe not a _manly_ man, but something of a ladies man— the times he’d sucked cock or wanked some bloke off aside, when you’re horny you’re horny and all that— and if he’d ever decided he wanted to maybe do more than mess around with another man every now and then when he was incoherently pissed he would have assumed he’d be a top and not— whatever it is you call a massively slutty bottom who wants to be rogered almost constantly. Don’t ask him. He’s not actually a part of the gay community. Maybe he should be though. He can imagine himself covered in glitter, Simon’s cum dribbling down his thigh, getting all up in the face of the straights— That seems like a stereotype. Is he being homophobic? Can he be homophobic? Is it possible to be homophobic while also in a[n alarmingly loving and committed] homosexual relationship?

‘I think maybe we should wait outside,’ he hears his mother’s— man who lives with her— say, then the sound of footsteps going back the way they came. 

He stands pressed to Simon’s front, shivering like a newborn colt or something in these stupid, back-arching shoes. He can feel his boyfriend’s cock, still pressed against him, thankfully softening. He’s not sure what he’d do with the idea of Simon getting off on his mother watching them fuck— of course he’d deal with it, but it’s not a thing he thinks he can cope with happening on the regular. Or at all really. 

‘Are you ok?’ Simon eventually asks, all gentle like. 

‘I have no idea,’ he replies, ‘I think my mum just saw my gaping anus.’

There is a pause, and then Simon asks, ‘Are you going to break up with me now?’

He gives him a gentle slap to the upper arm. ‘Of course I’m not going to break up with you. _You’re_ the reason my anus is gaping like this; you have to take responsibility—’ a thought occurs to him, ‘Unless you don’t want to. Are _you_ breaking up with _me_ Barry?’

‘Of course not,’ Simon says, wrapping those eternally surprisingly strong arms around him. ‘I love you.’

He feels himself go all hot and flushed and tingly. He nuzzles in to Simon’s front, having to bend over in these stupid shoes to even mouth along the edge of his jaw. ‘I love you too,’ he mutters, hoping most of the sound is lost in the press of flesh to flesh. It’s so mortifyingly embarrassing to admit. He will though, because if he doesn’t Simon might leave him. He doesn’t want Simon to leave him. What’ll he do if Simon leaves him? His arse is never going to be the same again and he doubts he’ll ever find another man with a cock as perfect— one that splits him open nice and wide while not being so long he feels like he’s getting a colonoscopy each time.

Also he really, really, really likes the other man— absolute, utter freak that he is— and he thinks he’d feel bad, emotionally, if they broke up. Wow. He has become such a twat.

‘Do you want to go out there and talk to them?’ Simon asks after a moment of cuddling and nuzzling that’s beginning to ramp its way back up to amorous. 

‘Not at all,’ he replies, attempting to position himself in the heels so he can grind his hips against his boyfriend’s, and not just against Simon’s stomach. Stupid height difference. Stupid stripper shoes. ‘I want you to put it back in,’ this is true. His arse actually feels hungry. All slippery and loose and waiting. 

It’s like this every time. He finds himself creeping off to the loos every now and then after they’re done just so he can stick a hand back there, feel the hot and sticky and tender and loose mess he’s become, drag his fingers through the remnants of Simon’s cum, finger himself if he ever finds that he’s starting to close back up again. He loves it. He never wants to tighten back up, he wants it so Simon can just stick it in the moment either of them get the impulse— Part of him is kind of worried about the effects this will have long term. So far he’s had no problems when it comes to shitting, but if it ends up in adult nappy territory— well, he’ll have to deal with that then. For now. ‘I want your cock,’ he sighs against his boyfriend’s pale neck.

‘What if they come back in?’ Simon asks, the effect slightly ruined by the fact that the man’s hands have navigated to his arse where they are now squeezing and pulling the cheeks apart. 

‘I didn’t ask for them to break into my home,’ he mutters resentfully, leaning in to take the other’s red lips in a kiss.

Simon does that thing where he pretty much tongue fucks his mouth for a bit, which always makes him think of what other parts of his anatomy that tongue could be probing at, but then pulls away even though he whines. Cruel. Heartless. ‘We are kind of doing it right out in the open,’ the other reasons.

That is true. They are doing it in the middle of the Community Centre, but he’s sure he locked the doors, and the only people he expected to turn up where the others, and after the first few times the others had caught them he’d mainly gotten over his embarrassment and now delights in how uncomfortable seeing him take his boyfriend’s perfect cock makes them.

‘Don’t be reasonable Barry,’ he coos, ‘I don’t want you to be reasonable right now. It’s making my cock soft.’

‘If you go out there and talk to them they might go away,’ Simon suggests, fingers trailing down to the edge of the robe and then slipping up under it, brushing up and down his thighs, moving closer and closer to his not-at-all-soft cock, ‘and then we’ll have all the time in the world for me to do something about that without interruptions.’

‘You drive a hard bargain,’ he says with a leer and a thrust of his hips, ‘but I suppose you’re right. It’s just—‘ and suddenly he feels very small, and his cock actually is getting soft, so he pulls away and smooths the robe back down over his thighs, ‘What if she says something horrible and homophobic and doesn’t want to be my mum anymore? Or what if she doesn’t like you?’

‘We’ll deal with it then,’ Simon says, leaning in to press a peck of a kiss to his lips, ‘I promise.’ Those pale eyes are a little bit wide and a lot intense, and he realises that Simon might just be as stressed out about this as he is but is trying to be a good boyfriend.

‘You are a wonderful boyfriend,’ he reassures the other, making that small, little pleased smile appear. ‘Ok, once more into the breach,’ he declares, smoothing the robe down and belting it tightly, before tottering off in the direction he thinks his mother went. The robe is hot pink with flowers on. The shoes are clear with silver straps. It’s a look. 

‘Don’t you want to put some clothes on?’ Simon asks, scurrying to his side while doing up his flies. 

‘I am not ashamed of my body,’ he declares, but then the image of his mum getting another look at his rod and tackle thanks to a stiff [heh] breeze crosses his mind, so he scurries back to the pile that is his clothes, stripped off and left on the ground before the lap dance he’d been giving Simon earlier as an automatic and natural response to finding those shoes and realising they were his size. He pulls out his grey boxer briefs and steps awkwardly into them, almost falling over in the process when one leg hole gets wrapped around one of his heels, before Simon catches him and steadies him. Then, pants on, robe smoothed back down, he does his wobbly best to saunter out of the community centre.

‘DID YOU KNOW HE WAS GAY?’ his mother is shouting down the phone, and then ‘THAT’S RIGHT, MAKE IT ALL ABOUT YOURSELF,’ so she’s probably talking to his dad.

‘Hey, um, Nathan,’ Jeremy says with an awkward little wave, He didn’t know old blokes could blush as red as that. Huh. 

‘I’VE GOT TO GO,’ his mum bellows, hanging up on his dad what sounds mid-word. 

‘This is Simon,’ he says with a languid wave of his hand at the man in question, ‘He’s my committed life partner and I’ll not have you two making us ashamed of that!’

Instead of replying anything that he expects she starts in with ‘Where have you been? I have been ringing you all day, all yesterday, and you won’t pick up the phone—‘ ah yes, he’s been wondering where that went. Probably on the floor at Simon’s, but they’ve been round the Community Centre the last couple days. ‘—I went round your mates’ and none of them could tell me where you were or even where you live. Eventually the only idea I had left was to come here, in case you were doing your community service, and what do I find—’ at this she seems to realise he’s still in the silky robe and stripper shoes, because her eyes boggle a little in their sockets. It’s really pretty gross. 

He tries again, ‘Simon, mum— mum, Simon,’ gesturing from one to the other and back again, and then, after a moment, ‘and that wanker’s Jeremy, I know you probably don’t recognise him since this time he’s _got his clothes on._ ’

‘You’re one to talk,’ he hears Jeremy mutter, eyes flicking over his robe clad form.

‘Ooh, like what you see Jezza?’ he taunts, ‘Well you can’t have it. It’s _his,_ ’ he points at a rather mortified Simon. ‘Anyway, what did the two of you want?’

Turns out she’s pregnant, if you can believe that, at her age, and that she and her terrier are getting married. She had wanted to invite him to the wedding— After rather a lot of shouting and a bit of crying, from him as much as anyone else, she comes back around and he gets his invite— as does Simon— as well as an invite to come around for tea on Sunday for the both of them.


End file.
